Dying Wish
by Yee111213
Summary: Harry's death is inevitable-he was being too bloody noble, that's why. Can his dying wish be fulfilled? Rated M for cursing


When Ginny arrived at St. Mungo's, she was already working hard to keep hysteria at bay. She'd rushed there right after a Harpies game the moment she heard that Harry was hurt while on Auror duty.

He'd been on a "mission" for the past week or so, and the fact that the mission was top-secret and that they couldn't communicate had been more than nerve-wracking for Ginny, bringing back memories of his "Horcrux year."

Ginny sprinted toward the bored-looking witch behind the desk. "Harry Potter! What room is he in?" she snapped.

The witch lifted her head up an inch and inspected Ginny. "And you are?" she drawled, looking back at her nails.

Ginny snarled, almost audibly. "Ginny Weasley. Now give me the bloody room number, or so help me, I will bloody hex you to Albania!"

Perhaps it was the maniacal glint in Ginny's eyes, or the now-apparent hysteria in her voice, but the witch let her in and pointed her toward the room.

The Auror standing at the entrance gave her a once-over, nodded, and let her in. It was more than well known that the Weasleys' youngest and only girl was dating the legendary Harry Potter.

Ginny barged through the double doors and stopped, her breath hitching. The Healer currently tending to him looked up at the noise, made a sort of sympathetic noise at the back of his throat, and quietly exited the room, adding to Ginny, "Do try not to make any sudden movement or loud noises. It's not good for him."

She nodded, not really hearing what he said, and plopped down on a chair next to Harry. He looked horrible.

His face had a greenish tinge to it, and some substance was leaking out of a dark gash on his right arm, filling up a stopper tied to his elbow. His breathing was shallow and bruises decorated his bare torso. His left leg was wrapped so tightly in bandages that it may have well as been mummified, his broken glasses were left on the bedside table, and on top of it all, his head was wrapped in cloth. Ginny had never seen Harry look this way before…he was small, vulnerable…broken and lifeless, like a rag doll.

She whimpered. She hated seeing him like this and not being able to kiss away the wounds, to caress his hair or whisper in his ear that everything was going to be alright.

Because not everything was going to be alright. The Patronus sent to her by one of his field workers said that he was badly poisoned and cursed at the same time, and that it would be a miracle if he managed to survive.

But then again. This was _Harry Potter_ , for Merlin's sake. The Boy Who Bloody Lived! The Chosen One! The Bloody Savior of the Wizarding World, who had to get himself into this bloody mess and leave Ginny to worry about him!

Harry-Bloody-Noble-As-F*ck-Potter. Who, in order to save a fellow Auror, jumped in front of her, saving her life but getting himself cursed in the process, when that very same Auror, who was in the process of shooting back a spell, accidentally poisoned Harry because he was in the way.

Harry was too noble for his own good. He tried to save someone who didn't need saving….what a bloody noble idiot, Ginny thought, looking down affectionately and angrily at him at the same time.

Ginny, who had remained there for a night already, had fallen asleep in the hard, straight-backed wooden chair. A female Healer was in the room, humming to herself and bending over Harry to check on his vitals.

As much as it was ridiculous, Ginny felt a twinge of jealousy that this girl was able to touch her Harry and inspect him and hum and write things on a clipboard when Ginny couldn't even do anything.

"Can I touch him?" she blurted.

The Healer looked slightly startled. "Miss Weasley! You're awake—I mean, er, yes, you can touch him. Just be real gentle, like this," and she demonstrated on Ginny's hand. "We've got a shower in this hospital, if you like…" she added tentatively, gesturing to Ginny's mud-splattered Harpies uniform and frizzy hair.

Ginny suddenly felt very self-conscious. "Yes, I'd like that…"

"He'll be fine," the young Healer interrupted Ginny's thoughts. "I'm Althia. Mr. Potter here has about five Healers around the clock watching him."

"If you're sure he'll be okay…" Ginny mused doubtfully.

Althia waved off Ginny's concerns. "Go, Miss Weasley. I'm sure it'll be all for the better when he wakes up. I don't think he wants to smell that Quidditch field smell," she smirked.

Ginny's mouth fell open. This Althia was positively deceiving—she appeared small and nice and helpful, when in reality she was wry, sly, and blunt. Still nice, though.

"You must have been in Slytherin," the words fell out of Ginny's mouth.

Althia tried to smile, but it looked like a grimace. "Actually, I was in Ravenclaw. Well, the Sorting Hat seriously considered putting me in Slytherin."

"I—I'm sorry—I didn't mean to say that—" a mortified Ginny tried to apologize.

Althia waved it off, pointing her wand first at Ginny, then at Harry, so that a warm blue light filled the room over his chest. "You're tired. We have our days. Now go get a shower. That's an order from a Healer, missy."

Ten minutes and a hot shower as well as some oatmeal later, Ginny emerged from the hospital waiting room and entered Harry's room. A horde, or so it seemed, of Healers were crowding around his bed, while a machine next to Harry beeped frantically; Ginny immediately went on alert.

"What is it?" she asked frantically. "What's going on?"

Althia was there, and so was the male Healer from yesterday; his name tag said Lee; two others were also there, both males. The four Healers ignored her frantic questionings, so Ginny resorted to sissy-slapping the Healers, not caring that she was interfering with their work.

Finally, the third male turned around, looking annoyed and harassed. His name tag read Jaysen. "Miss Weasley, please exit this room. Now."

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Ginny snapped, arms crossed over her chest.

Jaysen looked like he was about to argue, but then the machine started beeping at twice the speed, and turned his back on her. "Mr. Potter is in danger. His heart is not beating. Now please exit this room. We may save him if there is no interference."

Ginny had no choice but to exit, and sent a Patronus to each of her brothers as well as her mum.

And wait in the waiting room, head in her hands. And wait. And stare at the walls. And stare at a picture of her and Harry.

And wait.

The fourth male Healer exited the room, looking exhausted. The four Healers had stayed in Harry's room for about a day and a half, and Ginny could only hope that they had found time to use the bathroom, because she didn't want Harry enveloped in feces and urine.

"Well?" she demanded, cracking her neck; she had stayed in the same spot as well for the past day and a half.

The Healer appeared to not have heard her. "Ahem…" she glanced at his name tag, "…Galen?"

Galen slowly turned to face her, his face gaunt. "Yes, ma'am?"

"How is he?"

"He's stable now," Galen closed his eyes and drooped back against the wall. Ginny quickly conjured him a chair and a cup of Muggle coffee.

"Drink this," she advised, "and then tell me."

Galen opened one eye, obediently drank the coffee, then spat it out. "What is this potion?" he exclaimed, aghast.

"It's a Muggle drink; they drink it a lot, actually. Coffee."

"Well, I'm awake now, so I hope that's what it was supposed to do." When Ginny nodded, Galen continued. "Mr. Potter is stable, as I said. He'll have to stay here for another couple of weeks or so, maybe one week. But he's not seeing visitors until tonight, when we can be sure that he can breathe by himself."

"I want _details_ ," Ginny hissed.

"Alright, alright. We have blocked the poison to one part of the body, his wand arm, until we can find an antidote. It was a rather rare poison, so we may have to make one, in which case we may call upon Miss Granger—I believe you know her?—and the curse is almost completely lifted. We think it will get better with time."

Suddenly Galen looked at her directly, and warned, "Harry may not be the same after this. We're not sure if this has affected his frontal brain or not. We are doing all we can, but…Mr. Potter may lose a little, if you know what I mean."

Ginny groaned. "Would you like me to stay with you for a minute, or would you like to be left alone?" Galen asked quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind. Oh, and keep the coffee," she murmured back.

Once Galen left, presumably to take a nap, Ginny's tears threatened to overwhelm her. She ran to the ladies' washroom and locked herself in a stall, using up almost all of the toilet paper until she felt even remotely calm.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice sounded in the empty hall. "Ginny, how are you, darling?"

Ginny reluctantly let herself be hugged by her mother. "Mum, I'm fine," she muttered, just as her stomach emitted a loud rumble.

"Oh, good, you're hungry," grinned George, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Mum's brought a feast."

And so she had. Baskets of mini sandwiches appeared before Ginny's very eyes. Pumpkin juice, wine (now that they were all old enough to drink), and butterbeers appeared, corked and sparkling in the hospital light. Pudding and treacle tart somehow landed in Ginny's waiting hands along with a fork as she eagerly dug in.

"Don't eat too quickly, dear," Mrs. Weasley cautioned, "you'll get a stomachache. You know what, leave the sandwiches for later. I think soup will do you more good. What do you think, George? George?"

She looked around, but George was nowhere to be seen. He reappeared moments later with a guilty looking young woman with plain brown hair and eyes perched on his elbow.

Ginny was eating so fast she barely registered that her prankster brother _George_ had a _woman_ hanging on his _arm—_ that is, until Mrs. Weasley noticed it for Ginny.

"GEORGE WEASLEY! WHO IS THIS?!" she shrieked, out of surprise. George growled a big and hauled the girl closer—it was becoming apparent that the girl was not there willingly.

"This—lovely—young—woman—is—the—Auror—who—accidentally—cursed—Harry," he grumbled through clenched teeth, holding the woman's arms behind her back. " _And_ she would like to apologize, _wouldn't_ she, because she's just riddled and consumed with guilt!"

He finally managed to wrestle her wand out of her fist and pointed it at her. "Introduce yourself."

"My—my name is Kepi," the young woman burst out. "I'm an Auror trainee, and I—I don't know, I just panicked and I just didn't see Mr. Potter and he just burst out of nowhere and there was something in the darkness and I—oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried.

"Harry," Ginny mumbled distractedly. "He wants you to call him Harry."

"I—oh. Well I'm so sorry, Mrs. And Mr. Weasley, and Miss Weasley! I'm dreadfully sorry, I would do anything I could but I'm being sent back on the very same mission to try and find the wizard that curse was targeted for!" Kepi continued rambling.

"Go," George snapped angrily. "Just go on your mission. Get out."

Mrs. Weasley was sympathetic. "He's just a bit in shock, dear. But thank you, Kepi—your apology does mean a lot to us," she tried for a warm smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Kepi returned the grimace and whirled out of the hallway, but not before _Accio_ -ing her wand—silently.

"Weasley!" a sharp voice suddenly burst out of the hospital room. All three redheads looked up, startled—Ginny still with remnants of butterbear dripping down her chin. "Erm, Ginny Weasley," Jaysen corrected. "Mr. Potter's been asking for you. We're afraid—we're afraid—well, we think he's on his way."

"On his way to what?" George asked sharply, standing up.

"You know—dying," Jaysen looked George directly in the eye. "And he asked for Ginny Weasley. I suggest you summon the rest of your family and his friends, to say goodbye, if it gets to that degree."

Ginny dropped her butterbeer, and the glass shattered in the silence. " _Reparo,"_ Mrs. Weasley murmured shakily. "Go on, Ginny. We'll send Patronuses." Ginny stood up, but she ended up falling against George's chest.

"I'll go to the door with you," George whispered. "Do you want me to go in?"

Ginny hesitated. A big part of her was screaming _YES YES YES!_ But if this really was her and Harry's last time together, she wanted it to be private. "Wait outside," she said, with an air of finality. "But put those _ears_ to good use."

George let a hint of his prankster smile escape as he dragged out a long, fleshy colored string. "Gotcha."

Ginny crept over to where Harry lay, and thumped heavily on the stool next to the bed. She carefully put Harry's good hand in her own, stroking the callused palm and tracing the lines of his hand. At her touch, Harry's eyelids fluttered and he let out a groan.

"Harry?" Ginny whispered, leaning in a little closer.

"Ughnmnh…," was the response. Harry seemed to be trying to shift a little, but Ginny carefully put her hands on his ribs to stop him.

"Don't move, you'll hurt yourself, silly," Ginny smiled, but tears started leaking out of her eyes. Harry, who had a built in Ginny-crying-alarm system, opened his eyes wide. The startling bright green jerked Ginny's senses a bit and she tried to stop crying—she really did—but to her horror, she found that she couldn't stop and only cried harder.

"Ginny," Harry croaked. "Water. Please."

"Yes, of course," Ginny sobbed, and sloshed water into his dry, cracked lips. "Drink slowly."

"Ginny," Harry stated. To no avail. Ginny continued to cry as she shakily placed the glass back on the bedside table. " _Ginny_ ," he stated more insistently. "Ginny!" he grabbed her hand with surprising strength. Ginny made more of an attempt to stop her tears.

"What?" Ginny snapped.

"Ginny, listen to me. I know I'm dying—no, shush, you know it too—and I know you're cursing me for being noble. But I—" he broke off to cough, and the piece of handkerchief he coughed into was now glowing green and had blood on it. He quickly threw it out and murmured a small charm that would protect the room until the Healers could do something more permanent.

"Ginny, look at me," Harry commanded softly. She lifted her red-rimmed eyes to his own emerald ones, as Harry lifted a shaky hand to stroke her face. She let loose a hesitant smile-laugh ( **A/N: you know, the kinds in movies when they're like "heh-heh" when it's a sad-happy scene…you don't know?...ok….)** and she traced Harry's face. She leaned in and planted a small kiss on his mouth (nothing too aggressive).

"I love you," Harry whispered, his forehead leaning against her forehead.

? ? ? - ( **A/N: These question marks indicate change of POV)**

George knew that the conversation was going to be intimate—but not to the _I love you_ degree. He had personally seen Harry and Ginny's relationship bud and develop, but it was still very awkward to hear Harry—one of his best mates—declare his love for Ginny as he possibly lay dying in a hospital bed. Part of his big brother instinct wanted to barge in the hospital room and smack Harry senseless for saying that; part of him wanted to keep listening; part of him yet just wanted to let them have their moment.

He kept with the eavesdropping part.

? ? ?

Some time had passed between Harry and Ginny, and neither of them spoke, until Harry shifted until he was holding her hands and was looking earnestly into her eyes.

"Marry me."

Ginny's head jerked up. "I'm s-sorry?"

Harry was grinning, but his eyes were anxious. "I said, marry me. I mean, will you?"

Ginny looked incredulous. "I—why are you saying this?"

Harry sighed. "You know why, Gin. I'm obviously dying. Grant my last wish?" he gave her a snarky grin—he could still do that, even when dying from poison—and winked.

"I'll marry you, Harry," Ginny whispered, a smile spreading across her face. "Yes, I will!" and she hugged him as hard as she could without touching his ribs (which was not an easy thing to do) and kissed him, a little more passionately.

? ? ?

"Oh, bloody hell," George whispered, sagging against the hospital doors.

"George! Are you alright?" Hermione rushed over, not missing his sudden lack of alertness.

"Harry asked Ginny to marry him," George muttered, taking Hermione's help as well as Ron's, who had suddenly appeared by his elbow.

Ron's head snapped up, his eyes flaring dangerously for a moment, then dropped back into defeat. "I suppose they deserve it—but that just pretty much confirms that Harry thinks he's going to die, doesn't it?"

"He's happy," Hermione replied. "I think that that's all it is. He'll make it through this. He's made through just as much before," she added, not sounding very convincing.

? ? ?

Ginny had kissed Harry, and he'd asked her to rummage in his Auror robes and feel around in the pockets for a little box. Yes, she'd guessed right—he bought the rings ahead of time and kept them with him, as a hope for the future. She'd slipped his onto his finger and he slowly, trembling, slipped hers onto her finger.

They kissed again, and Harry leaned back slowly against the pillows. "Can you find someone to marry us?"

"What—now?" Ginny asked, startled.

"Yes," Harry replied, looking directly at her—unwavering. "I want to die, knowing that you will forever have a piece of me. That way you can move on." For they both knew the depth of each other's love, but neither was willing to admit that one of them was going to die one day.

"George," Ginny whispered at the door crack. "Get Percy inside. Now, George!"

Seconds later, Percy was shoved inside the doors, looking immensely confused.

"Marry us," Ginny demanded.

Percy looked shocked and unsure, protesting and stammering.

"Please," Harry croaked, and held out a hand for Ginny. She took it and sat next to him. "Go on, Percy," she encouraged.

Percy rolled his eyes. "I can't believe I'm doing this. But for you, Ginny, and for you, Harry, I will," he grinned.

"…and I do declare thee bonded together for life and eternity…" Percy murmured, waiting until they kissed tenderly to wave the bonds around their wrists. They placed rings on the right fingers, the bond disappeared, and ta-da! They were married. Just like that.

Harry was terribly tired from the ordeal and was turning steadily paler by the second. Ginny gently set him down and tenderly kissed him again before smoothing his hair back like a child, and kissed his knuckles. Harry, too tired to sit up again, simply stroked her knuckles. Percy respectfully turned away—that is, until the machine began beeping madly and Harry's strokes suddenly stopped.

"Harry?" Ginny exclaimed frantically, as the Healers began to rush in. "Harry! Harry!" She tried to smooth his hair, pick up his hand, anything—he wasn't responding. "Harry Potter! You wake up right this instant!" she screamed, and hands were on her, pulling away from her Harry, and an urgent voice was saying "Ginny, Ginny, let go, he'll be fine if you just let go!" and more redheads were pouring in the room, trying to get her off him and slowly everything went black.

? ? ?

Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter, sobbing over her as she held up her left hand. "Oh, Arthur, they've married—he must've known—oh, I can't—" she sobbed into Arthur's chest as he came over, tears silently pouring down his face, as he too realized the love between his daughter and Harry.

Ginny slowly came to and looked at the tear-stained Weasleys and Hermione around her.

"Where's Harry?" she demanded.

Hermione looked nervous, but she swallowed visibly and murmured, "He's being taken care of, Ginny. He—he'll be fine. Erm, I'm happy for you two," she concluded pathetically, gesturing to her ring.

Ginny's arms fell around Ron, who was the closest to her, and sobbed continuously into his solid, sturdy build. Hermione came and enveloped them in a group hug, and George latched on, and Percy, and Charlie, but Bill did not have arms long enough, so he hugged the other side, and so did Arthur and Molly.

All weeping for Harry Potter.


End file.
